Insanity
by open mind
Summary: There's always been something wrong with me. I know that. But now, now I think I have finally lost my mind.AmomxHelen DISCLAIMER: I don't agree with anything the Nazis did or beleived in.


A/N:

The Amon Goeth in this story is not the Amon Goeth in real life. I know that in the movie/book he was based off of the real person but the real man was vile, disgusting and evil and I have no sympathy for him. I am going to treat the Amon Goeth from the movie as a different entity than the real man.

That being said I hope you like this. It's pretty experimental but I found Helen's and Amon's disturbing and yet fascinating.

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There's always been something wrong with me. I know this. I've known this nearly all my life. That when my classmates were out kicking around a ball I experimented on my brother's pet rabbit he had caught. The sounds it made when I inserted pins into its eyes shouldn't have fascinated me so… but it did. I have never felt remorse for anything I have done in my life and that in and of itself is wrong. Everyone feels regret for something. Not me.

I fit right in with the Nazi's. They understood me. They were like me. And so I became one. I am a Nazi and I am proud of this. I have been able to turn my impulses on the true enemy. The Jews. The filthy animals that are trying to ruin my country, my race."Arisches Blut soll nicht untergehen!"

I am working for good now. That is what I am told, and it is easier to believe it. Don't think I feel bad for what I do. I do not. I feel nothing but pride. That doesn't mean I don't think there is something wrong with me. Sometimes, the newer and younger S.S guards, when I come down from my balcony after some sport with my sniper, give me these looks. The young ones just don't understand what we are fighting for. They want quick deaths for these people. People. How come someone consider this filth, this disgusting plague of the earth to be people. As if they deserve the courteously of a swift death.

There's always been something wrong with me. I know that. But now, now I think I have finally lost my mind. I know it's her evil Jew magic that is making me want her. But I cannot help but ache for her. Whenever she is around me I want to reach out and grab on to her. Pull her close to me and feel her heart beat against mine. What cruel trick God is playing on me. Making me want a Jew.

She is doing this on purpose. She wants to confuse me. To keep me up at night. I hate her. I want nothing more than to reach out and wrap my hand around her small, slender neck and squeeze until every ounce of oxygen has left her lungs. Would it be gratification I would feel? I think it would be. But you see, I am afraid. What if I don't feel triumph…what if I feel…remorse? Could I bear to feel remorse for a Jew? What would become of me?

I can hear her in the kitchen. She is preparing my dinner. She is such an amazing little cook. She takes such care in the food she brought me. She…

No, no, no! She's doing it again! The bitch! That lousy Jew Bitch. My hands are balling themselves into fists and I am desperately trying to keep control. I am, for the first time in my life, at a loss. I want to kill her. I want to hit her. I want to hurt her. I want to hold her, and kiss her and love her. Why?

She's coming down the hallway. She's finished with dinner. In a few moments I will hear her soft, fragile knock on the door, followed by a soft, 'Mein Herr, Goeth'.

I stand. I can't hear her voice again. It will drive me over the edge. My skull will split in two and my brains will fall out onto the floor. I know it. With long strides I make it across the room. My hand is on the handle now and I can hear her coming closer. I breathe deeply and wait. I wait. I can feel her right outside. She is probably shifting the tray in her arms so she can knock on the door without spilling my meal. She made that mistake once. She won't do that again.

Before she has a chance to knock on the door I swing it open. She takes a few steps back, fumbling with the tray. I watch the bowl slide across the tray and tip over. The steaming soup spills over her creamy, slender arm and she cries out in pain. I am sure my face remains blank as I watch the soup spill onto the carpet.

Her face as she looks up at me sets my body on fire. The fear that consumes her. The hint of pain that furrows her brow and the way her body trembled…

I let out a deep breath. I can't bring myself to anger over my spilt dinner. Realistically I know it was my fault. It was my doing. Knowing something was my fault had never stopped me from punishing another before, however. We are standing here. Staring at each other. She wants to know what I am going to do. I need to figure that out.

"Mein Herr, Goeth." She whispers, her voice trembling. My hand shoots out and in a moment it is wrapped around her throat. I can feel her swallow hard and I step closer. The tray clattered on the floor and she stumbled backward until she was pressed against the wall.

I am close to her now. I can smell her. Tears drip from her eyes and my head moves forward. I stop myself. What do her tears taste like I wonder? I bet they taste delicious. My hand relaxes around her throat. My want is painful. I want to see what she looks like underneath her clothing.

Tears continue to drip from her eyes. My tongue wants to taste them. I lower my head until my forehead is next to hers. I press my skin to hers gently, feel her warmth. Her body would feel heavenly underneath mine.

I open my mouth; move my face closer to her cheeks. I extend my tongue. Her tears are so close. Hot, wet and salty. Just one taste. That's all I need. Just one taste.

A knock on the door. I pull back as if I have been stung, releasing her throat as I do. Her eyes are large as she looks up at me. There are more knocks on the door but I ignore them.

"Clean this up." I say. My voice is harsh, forced and strained. I know she can hear it. She nods and drops to her knees. I watch her a moment as she piles the dropped bowl and silverware on the tray. She looks up at my anxiously. I am sure she is expecting my boot to land on her jaw at any moment. The knocking is growing more insistent and I turn swiftly.

I ignore most of what he says. Something happening in the camp. I tell him I will be down to deal with it later but I have no intention too. When I get back into the hallway she is gone. There is a small, dark stain on the rug where the soup had spilt and I stare at it. Had she been someone else what would have I done to punish her? I probably would have killed her. She runs back in, hesitating slightly when she sees me. She keeps on though, and once again falls to her knees. She begins scrubbing at the carpet, trying to avoid any staining.

There's something wrong with me. There has to be for me to want a Jew like this.

"Die Juden sind unser Unglück," I whisper. "Sie sind mein Unglück," She glances up at me and then back down at the floor. She's waiting to see what I will do next. I was so sure of everything before she arrived at my camp. I never doubted myself. I always knew what to do.

I kneel down so I am balancing on the balls of my feet. She freezes and looks up at me, her eyes wide with fear. We look at each other for a long time. I reach up and gently place the tips of my fingers to her soft, pink lips. I bet they taste wonderful. Her lips part a fraction of an inch as she looks up at me. All I can do is stare at her mouth.

There's always been something wrong with me, but now I think I have finally lost my mind.


End file.
